Of Wolves And Gods
by Lovepuppy12
Summary: What if Thor was found by a tall, dark, and handsome green-eyed man named Damien Pierce? Can he help Thor regain his worth in time to stop Loki? Is he who he says he is? Is Loki the real monster, or is it Odin? Is there anyone who Thor can trust? Slash OC/Thor. Eventual mpreg. Mentions of past mpreg. Rated M for later chapters.
1. Gift From Above

Thor fanfiction

"Of Wolves and Gods"

Chapter One: Gift from Above

The night was surprisingly humid for the New Mexico desert. Most people don't realize that while temperatures can climb as high as 110 degrees, as soon as the sun sets, temperatures drop drastically, even down to below freezing during the peak of summer. The desert was a dangerous and unpredictable place at night. Even so, in mid August, the balmy 97 degrees that flashed across Sheriff Damien Pierce's Charger's dash was highly unusual.

"God dammit!" A large fist landed roughly against the digital screen, but did nothing to change the glaring red numbers that stared back at him. "Must be busted again." Damien stared wearily at the vents of the A/C. The hot air that blew back at him, even at its coolest setting, almost brought tears to his hazel-green eyes. As a last-ditch effort, he rolled the windows down only to be met with the biting hot wind and stinging sand hitting his face. A frustrated yell was soon swallowed up by the flat expanse around him.

This was doing nothing to alleviate his mood. His 14-hour day started with no coffee and a rock hard donut and tumbled downhill from there. Weeks worth of evidence was destroyed in an mysterious office fire and Damien had visited two officers in the hospital who were injured in a very violent bar fight two days ago.

Officer Hartwell, his oldest standing member on the force at the age of 48, broke his arm in two places after getting thrown against the wall by an out of control biker from a local biker gang. He will be released from the hospital in a day or so, but would be on desk duty for the next 4-6 weeks. Then there was Collins, a rookie right out of the academy. He wasn't even on duty that night. Just happened to be in the wrong place when a pool stick came flying towards his head, ironically by the same biker that took Hartwell down. Collins was still unconscious with a concussion and would be on leave until further notice from his doctor. That left Damien with raging gang member in his holding cell with charges for resisting arrest, attacking and injuring a police officer, destruction of property, and assault. And to make it even worse, this morning, he asks for a lawyer and now claims to be on medication and won't be held responsible for his actions. _Medicine, Damien snorted. That's one way of putting it. How about a wayward overgrown pup who ran away from home. Just wait till I get my hands on him._

Suddenly the road changed from asphalt to sand. The city lights faded into the distance behind the black police crusier, and with it so went his worries from his hectic job as protector and law keeper of the little city he recently started to call home. The stars lit up the night sky and the moon cast her light upon his path deeper into the barren land. Trips like this were becoming more routine as Damien settled into his new life as Sheriff. Less than six months ago, he was just a deputy in a small town in Colorado with fewer than 1000 residents. Half of those people were either family or pack that lived at base of the Rockies on the reservation that his mother ran. Going from there to a place with paved streets, street lights and where he was surrounded by humans who are completely oblivious that they share their planet with other beings who have great powers and incredible abilities, creatures whom rival their scientific limits to even exist and dismissed as legends and myths walk among them every day. Realizing that he was suddenly a member of a small minority of a different kind and one that would not be welcomed took some getting use to.

God, how he wished he could drop the disguise and stretch his legs in a long awaited run, to feel the wind blow through his fur and the sand give beneath his paws. But alas, Damien knew he could not relish in this form of freedom for fear of being seen. Not by a human, no a much more dangerous adversary. Odin. He would not be the one to risk his people's safety for a few hours of bliss. However, having to keep up the disguise 24/7 was draining.

"Maybe I'll go home for the holidays this winter. It'll be almost a year since I've seen any of the pack. Hopefully my brothers will be there for a run..." The shapeshifter mused as he thought of his vacation that was unfortunately months away. He sighed and pushed his plans to the back of his mind.

The black car rolled to a stop in the sand. He left the engine idling with the heater on, as he exited the car. Despite what the temperature was now, he knew it would be freezing by the time he went home. Being a shifter, Damien wasn't affected by cold temperatures, but the toasty warmth from the heater was one modern convenience he was willing to indulge in.

There was nothing special about the spot, the same sand that span out for miles in every direction, but this was a special spot. It was the perfect spot for gazing at the stars... and maybe talk to one. Damien leaned against the humming hood of the charger, letting the vibrations ease away the rest of his frustrations, and looked up at the night sky. What seemed like millions of stars shined back at him, but there was only one that he wanted to find.

"Where are you, old friend?" A star to the east glowed brightly, its light becoming brighter than its companions, caught the policeman's eye. Damien's smile beamed just as bright. "Ah, there you are!"

It might seem silly, even childish, to talk to a star. It was just a giant ball of hot air that might not exist anymore that was light years away. Or at least that's how the humans saw it. They didn't realize that every one of those bright lights was a portal to another world, and the one he was looking at was the entrance to the city of gold.

"Hello, Heimdall."

*In the Bifrost, after the Jotunheim Conflict*

Odin was Angry.

That was putting it simply. Odin was upset, mad, betrayed, tired, and many other things. But he mostly felt disappointed in his eldest son. After years of battles, conflicts, and trials of war, Thor had shown much promise of becoming a great king one day. The decorated breast-plate he proudly wore clearly showed as such. Allfather had hoped that this son's hubris and impulsive behavior that he exhibited as a child had been left behind. Odin looked to his son. His face was steadily turning a bright red in anger, just as his face would when he was denied attention as a child. How had he been so blind? Sure Thor was strong and brave but his first instinct was to fight. He saw it as the only way to settle an argument. Who was stronger. Not who was right or what was right. No. That wasn't the way to gain loyalty and love, only fear and rebellion. Until he learned that, he was still a child.

"And you're an old fool!" Thor's words spat at him, intent to hurt him. A last resort from a child who knew the battle had already been lost. The last straw for this old man. He was tired of playing this game. He knew where to hit and how much it would hurt. One by one, Odin stripped Thor of his accolades, his badges of honor, the artifacts that made him and others around him believe he was superior, to be respected. he took his power. Then he sent him to a place where no one would know him. With a quiet spell, Odin threw Moljnir through the Bifrost.

_I may be old, but I'd be a fool to let a child take my crown._

Odin sighed heavily. The weariness of his many years suddenly bearing down on him. He turned to where Loki, his youngest son, stood quietly. His body was stiff and eyes wide with fear.

"Don't worry, Loki. Thor will be fine." Each word seemed to drain him of more energy but managed not to let it show. Together they left on their steads to return home, leaving the Guardian of the Bifrost, Heimdall, to watch over the entrance into their kingdom. The dark-skinned warrior stood at his post, his stance impenetrable. His golden eyes stared straight ahead but his focus strayed to the little blue planet where his prince had been sent. A small smile pulled at the corners of his full lips.

"Hello, Damien. You are about to receive a great gift. Keep your heart and mind open, and you and he will reap great reward."

*Back on Earth*

The response he received was not what he expected. Storm clouds rushed in from all sides of the desert sky, and the wind began to howl, whipping up the sand around him. The rolling crackle of thunder and lightning filled Damien's ears. The once bright sky darkened and he was left wondering in fear for what was to come next. The hair on his body began to stand on end, the air seemed to come alive with energy. Directly above, dark clouds swirled in a tight vortex, pulling more clouds in from its outer ring, growing bigger and bigger by the second. Suddenly a large flash on lightning blinded him followed by a deafening crash, a horrible sound of crushed aluminum and bent steel, mournful sputters of a dying engine before it was rendered silent. The raging wind died with the sound, and the clouds dispersed.

Silence.

"What the hell just happened? What was that nois- Oh my god!" Damien turned around and stared at the wreckage that was once his car. Of course it was hard to ignore the man that now laid unconscious on top of the collapsed hood. _"Where did he come from?"_

As if summoned by his thoughts, a star to the east again glowed brightly and its light engulfed the two men. Damien stared up at the star in disbelief.

"Heimdall? But where did he come from?" Stepping closer to the wreck , he took a better look at his "present" from Heimdall. The car was totaled, the frame was bent and twisted underneath the body, the hood completely concave from the force that his friend fell with from above. He looked human, well-built and handsome.

"Beautiful, really." Damien spoke softly and brushed his fingers through silky blond hair to show more of his face, letting his hand caress a high cheekbone. His gaze traveled across a prominent brow, lush light blond eyelashes, a straight nose and settled on full pink lips set against smooth golden skin. "Definitely beautiful."

Despite the car being broken and mangled, sharp edges sticking up from the metal, there wasn't a scratch on him. No ordinary human could survive such a fall with no harm done to him.

_Asgardian._ Damien pulled his hand away as if burned. _But why? Does he know about us? Is he a spy for Odin?_

Many questions ran through his mind, each one more ominous and frightening than the last. Heimdall's light suddenly flared brightly across the desert sky, catching the distressed man's attention.

_I have to remember this is Heimdall's gift to me. Throughout the years I received many gifts from the distant star and the man who guarded it, all of which have brought fullness to my life, so this shouldn't be any different. _Damien reasoned with himself as he carefully lifted the man from the car hood into his arms.

Despite his bulk, he was light enough for Damien to carry him to his new home. He left the car where it sat. He'd report it missing in the morning. It'll be a while before anyone finds it out here, besides there was no way to fix it now. At least it was the police station's car and not his personal one. Resigned to the long walk home, he turned to where he knew the city lights would appear and continued on, oblivious to the sky behind him. The night sky lit up briefly, the trail of a bright star falling to the ground far to the east of the two men, left to be discovered some other time.

To be continued...

This is the first story of a series centered around Thor and my original character, that will later include other characters from the Marvel movies. This story will follow the movie canon up to a point before veering off into my storyline, probably around chapter three or four. You'll know if you have seen the movie. The events form Thor: The Dark World do not occur in this story.

Enjoy!


	2. Genesis

"Of Wolves and Gods"

Chapter two: Genesis

His stomach growled angrily at him. The sound filled the small house and for a second feared he would wake his new housemate. Damien glanced at the door to his master bedroom where the handsome stranger slept in his bed. The house was small, only two bedrooms, one he converted into an office for when he brought work home with him. He didn't feel right laying him out on the couch. Even though Asgardians are much stronger than humans he has obviously been weaken when he was sent here. Landing on his car shouldn't have rendered him unconscious otherwise. So it seemed appropriate that his guest have a bed since he seems to have been injured in some way. He wanted him to be comfortable.

"_Sure, keep telling yourself that." _A voice from the deep recesses of his mind, his wolf, spoke softly, the sound, a deep timber that flowed through his body with each word.

On Earth, his people are referred to as werewolves, half man, half wolf, even shape shifters. For the most part, that is true. Their inner beast, their wolf, greatly resembles the feral earth creatures that roam in packs on this planet. Their wolf, back when the Earth was still young and Damien's people had just arrived after their world was destroyed by Odin, dictated their life, from determining hierarchy, rules of conduct, and even how to determine one's mate. Lycans, as called by Asgardians, roamed the Earth in their animal form, blending in with the native animals, and were mostly left alone by the humans as they tried to put the pieces of their lives shattered by Odin's betrayal back together. As time went on and humans became more civilized, his people began to integrate with them. Such as Asgardians and like all gods, they are magical beings, and used their magic to alter their appearance to confuse the humans. But this is only used sparingly. Using magic to alter their appearance is draining and dangerous if one lost their concentration and the spell broke in front of humans. Even now, many werewolves stay with their pack, rarely interacting with humans unless it is necessary. Back home in Colorado, there is only a handful or so of humans who live in town but are oblivious to the werewolf pack that live in the mountains.

"_Mate."_ The deep voice rumbled softly to him.

_Oh goddess, this is not good. _"He is not my mate." Damien glanced to the door again before passing by to the kitchen to quiet his stomach…and hopefully the annoying dog in his head.

"_Not a dog."_ The beast that dwelled in his subconscious grumbled, just as annoyed with his counterpart for denying the obvious. _"Mate. Smells good. Smells right."_

And that he did. Since he had gotten home, Damien became painfully aware of how good his guest did smell. A musky pine scent with a hint of smoke.

"Goddess, he smells like home." Damien groaned as blood rushed to his cock.

"_See. Body agrees." _He could tell the beast was smiling, he liked being right all the time.

"Oh shut up."

"I didn't say anything." Damien turned his head to the back door where a huge chocolate brown wolf had just entered, stilling pant from her evening run.

"I didn't mean you. I was talking to him." Damien indicated to his head with a wave.

"Oh. I hope you don't do that in public." Her lips didn't move, at least not to speak. No matter how long she lived, she would never be able to speak like humans did, but he could hear her just like other werewolves could.

Darcy wasn't a typical wolf. For one, she was as tall as a Great Dane. The tips of her ears came up to his collar bone and her snout to the center of his chest on Damien's 6'8" frame when she sat up straight. Her extended lifespan had much to do with that. She was over 2,000 years old.

"Ooooo." The over grown pup caught sight of the double-stacked roast beef sandwich on the counter Damien had made for himself and made a beeline for it.

"Hey!" He rushed to snatch the morsel off the counter and up above his head. "You just went out. Didn't you eat anything?"

The reason she went out was to hunt. Enchanted or not, she was a wolf and being cooped up all day in the house or at the police station was bound to drive her crazy as much as it did him. But as a normal wolf, she had more freedom than him. She could relish in the fur she was born with, feel the wind rush pass as she ran as fast as she could. She could let her instincts rule her as she stalked her prey and rejoice with the sweet taste of blood. She was free to be a wolf because that was all she was.

Darcy sat back on her haunches with a whimper. "I tried. Everything here either has a stinger on the back or fangs in the front. And the lizards taste really bad." She looked imploringly up at the plate above his head, her big green eyes brighter than usual. But he wasn't going to give up that easily.

"What about the jackrabbits?"

The wolf's ears dropped and sighed in disappointment. "They're too small. They are meant to run so the meat is tough. They're nothing like the fat rabbits back home."

Home. Not Colorado. Not back with his mother and other pack members she could talk to. Not the mountains. Home. She never called this place home, not even by mistake. Whenever he stayed at work late like tonight, he would send her home to sleep in her bed. "It's a house, Damien. It's not home." She said once as she slumped through the front door. And she was right. The kitchen only had the essentials: coffeemaker, fridge, microwave, and stove for the rare times he felt like or had the time to cook. No dinnerware except a small set of silverware and paper plates and cups. The rest of the house was similar. No personal touches, pictures, or decorations anywhere. Same pale walls as when he put the down payment down six months ago, and he had no desire to change it. This wasn't a home for him let alone a wolf. So why was he here?

_Because I'm an idiot. _He heard a snort from the back of his mind_. _

"_And afraid to go home." _Damien scoffed at what he was implying.

_What is there to be afraid of? There is no one at home for me._

"_Exactly, there is no one there at your home where there once was one. Your mate."_

_Not anymore._

The front of his shirt tugged forward. He looked down and found Darcy still looking up at him, her eyes looked confused and slightly concerned.

"I've been calling your name for two minutes." Her maul still clutched the front of his shirt. He couldn't help but smile at her. She was still a young wolf and depended on him for many things. Plus she was very cute when she was worried. "Sorry, I'm fine. It's just him again." He lowered the plate in front of her nose. "Here. Take it. I'll make another one later."

"Really?"

He tried not to laugh when her ears perked up and tail started to beat the tile floor, but didn't bother when she devoured the sandwich in two bites. Damien held up the plate as she licked up every trace of mustard.

"You really can't be satisfied with just that." He chuckled and placed the now clean plate in the sink then turned to get an ale from the fridge; his stomach could wait till later.

"Not really. But I'd take your sandwiches over jackrabbit any day. Darcy licked her lips once more, and then left the kitchen to go to her bed by the windows in the living room.

"I'll buy you some meat tomorrow." Since moving here, the werewolf had become very friendly with the local butcher. Damien was there at least three times a week getting meat for Darcy and for himself on the off occasion. Of course Larry the butcher was happy for the business. Although he wasn't too happy to see Darcy in his shop picking what cuts of meat she wanted. He translated, of course, but it was still an unusual sight.

Darcy made a distracted sound as she settled on the pile of pillows and cushions that made up her bed. Her green eyes looked at his bedroom door for a minute, then to him, before she closed them to sleep. He knew she wouldn't ask; even though wolves are affectionate with each other, they're generally private about their lovers, especially human ones.

_I almost forgot. What am I supposed to do with him?_

"_Mark. Mate. Pup." _The Lycan could practically see the built black wolf crouched in a stance, tongue hanging out for effect. His host snorted before finishing off his drink.

_I meant where am I going to sleep? _

"_In own bed, with our mate right next to us." _He paused; his ears swiveled in thought as if to pick up a hidden signal. _"Or beneath us. I like that one."_

If a wolf could look lecherous, Damien knew his wolf would accomplish it. But he did have a point. It was **his** bed. _"That's my boy."_ Ignoring the horny wolf in his head for once, he quietly entered his room.

It was late… or early depending how you look at it, but the moonlight's pale glow still managed to peek through the deep blue blackout curtains. His guest, a beautiful man from above, probably Asgard, whose skin seemed to glow and begged to be touched and caressed by the shape-shifter, called to him. And he still didn't know his name!

_And he's the enemy._

"_Your mother was once the enemy."_

It's true; his mother was once Asgardian. But through a cruel trick was banished to their home planet Lycra, a world of huge beasts that easily killed skilled warriors, let alone a frail beautiful creature like his mother. It was a death sentence by the old king Bor, Odin's father, for committing a heinous crime: loving his son.

_That was different. My parents love each other._

"_You could love this man."_

_That's what I'm afraid of._

***Asgard, Throne Room***

Father had collapsed.

_As if I can even call him that anymore! He's not my father. We're not even related! I'm the worst thing possible. A monster. An enemy of Asgard and all I've ever known. A Jotun. An ugly disgusting Ice Giant!_

Loki paced across the stone floors of the palace throne room and balled his fists in his hair in frustration, confusion, agony, and deep sadness. He tugged and twisted to the point of ripping his scalp before releasing the black silky tresses, letting them fall silently from his limp fingers.

_This was supposed to be mine…_

The dark-haired prince looked around the room, carefully cataloging every detail as if for the last time. His green eyes took in how the high shine on the floor was illuminated from the large oil torches perched high on the walls that accentuated the tall wide seamless glass panes that looked over the city. The view was so unobstructed that the city of Asgard seemed to be within his arm's reach. The oil's sweet heady aroma, the same as he remembered as a child.

_I remember when I was a child, after a bad dream, I somehow always found myself in this room, draped across the stairs to father's throne, falling fast asleep. And dream of when I would be king, my coronation, the applause, the smile on mother's face, Thor's reluctant acceptance …and father's approval. But now that will never happen, was never meant to happen. I will never be King of Asgard._

"_**Only one of you will ascend to the throne, but you both were born to be kings."**_

_Why? Why?! Why take me into your home, feed me, clothe me, treat me as your own, fill my head with lies about family and belonging? I never belonged. Deep down I knew I didn't belong. I was too different. I could never be liked Thor, even though we were supposed to be brothers, we didn't belong as brothers. No matter how hard I tried. No matter how hard Thor tried. I do love him for trying, that fool. But loving him doesn't make him my brother. Doesn't make me Odin's son or the future king of Asgard. But I'll never be Laufey's son!_

"Prince Loki, the queen asks for your company." A guard had called from the door.

_Prince… if only they knew whose royal blood ran through my veins._

"Where?"

"Allfather's chambers in the healing room."

_Of course. Like the other times father has fallen into Odin sleep, she won't leave his side until he has awaken. Before, Thor and I would stand in her and father's stead but now… it's just me._

"Understood. Leave me." Loki dismissed the guard with a flick of his wrist and held his smirk at the disapproving glare from the guard as he left.

_Never gets old. Now is my time to prove myself, to mother and father that I'm just as good as Thor. No, that I'm better than him! Jotun blood or not, I will be the greatest King of Asgard, just as father taught me to be. Just as I should be._

***Earth, Damien's bedroom***

In the mist of the dark room, Thor slowly awoken. To great pain coursing through his body.

_Ugh! Did an Ice Giant hit me again?_

Thor held his body stiffly against the soft material of the bed._ When did I return to my rooms? The last thing I remember is talking to Father… and a bright light. Then nothing. _He cautioned to move his head but the slightest movement brought searing pain and flashes of light behind his closed eyelids.

_I've never been in this much pain! What happened to my strength? Even breathing hurts! _Thor carefully drew air into his lungs, slowly expanding his battered rib cage. _I smell smoke and fire with a hint of spice. Did I fall asleep in Old Man Gil's forgery again?_

Gil is the royal family's blacksmith. His family is most revered for their talents in crafting formidable weapons. Gil's ancestors had forged all the weapons used by the king in battle and for commencement. They had made Odin's sword and scepter, and old Gil had forged Moljnir specifically for Thor when he had been born and the same for Loki's dagger.

Thor braced himself to move again, relieved to realize no bones were broken, he was just very sore all over, and was grateful for the soft cool sheets against his tender skin.

_Did the old man finally get new bedding? Ha! That cheap skate finally gave in! _He settled into the soft bedding, feeling completely content and safe, even though he had yet to open his eyes, began to drift back to sleep. The smells of the forge always comforted him at night.

Damien watched Thor intently as he slowly awoke.

_He doesn't sense me._

"_He might be disoriented. It was a long fall."_

Damien looked closely, waiting for those eyes to open… but they never did. He shifted and struggled to take a full breath without too much pain but his eyes never opened before the stranger started to drift off to sleep again.

"_Seems he's comfortable where he is." _The old wolf chuckled and settled himself in for the night, growing quieter.

His host was worried though, and couldn't let himself relax just yet.

"_What's wrong, pup?"_

_I just feel like the moment I relax and let my guard down… something's going to happen._

"_Something bad?"_

Damien paused as he tried to name this feeling that came over him. _I don't know… just that when I wake up tomorrow everything will be different. _He willed himself not to start pacing again. His heartbeat loud in his ears.

"_Of course everything is going to change. You just found your mate-"_

Growling in annoyance, he spoke aloud, "He's not my ma-"

"_Yes, he is!" _Damien started at the force behind those words and winced at the pounding in his head they caused._ "Look, pup. I may live in your head now, but I once had a body and a life of my own. I had a mate and pups, long before we had to leave our world, even before your father was born. I know you're scared, pup, but that's why I'm here. To guide you. Trust me. Sleep next to your mate. And understand that your life is just beginning._

TBC…

* * *

_Sigh_. Finally another chapter done. I hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Please tell me if anything is too confusing, writing style wise. I'm not revealing any secrets as what will happen or who will die and such as that. For my Hurricane readers, I haven't given up on that story, so please be just patient. Please review. Tell me what you like, what you don't like. **Next chapter, Thor has a very, very pleasurable dream about someone familiar, but is it just a dream or what is to come?**


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